


Ghosts

by Seda



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, But strap-ons that are relevant to the emotional arc of this fic not gratuitous honest guv, F/F, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-07 06:32:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18405071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seda/pseuds/Seda
Summary: Waverly wants Nicole back.





	Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> You know how I normally try to write thirty thousand words of plot before I get to the overly emotional sex scene? And how everything normally ends fluffy af? This one...ehh. I'll leave you to decide if you think it counts as a happy ending or not.
> 
> I should probably give you a quick content warning. Post break-up sex when you are in love with a person is a complicated, complicated beasty. (I don't particularly recommend it if they are not in love with you back. Fortunately not an issue for Wayhaught.) 
> 
> So emotions are running very high in this story, and a lot of them, not particularly positive emotions at that. If you're uncomfortable with them doing the do in that context, perhaps give this one a miss.
> 
> Right, have I put absolutely *everyone* off now?

Nicole tests the limits of her strength; putting her all into the levers that drive the cables that lift the weights, pushing and pulling as if her life depends on it.

Perhaps it does.

 

It's late, and she's alone in the tiny one-room basement gym. She's sat at the lone multi-function weights unit that, alongside one ancient friction-belt exercise bike, is the sole extent of Purgatory SD's physical training suite.

She hasn't worked out on weights like this since her academy training days; normally preferring to get her exercise in via the slap of sneakers on tarmac, her long legs carrying her easily along open roads with all the opportunity that gives her to observe and move through the world. But she doesn't want to be out in the world right now. She wants to hide away.

So she's been down here, doing this, every night for three weeks now. She's getting used to the rhythm of it, the sensation of beads of sweat forming at her hairline and running down her face, grown accustomed to and latterly started to relish the slowly building burn of her muscles.  She ignores the stale heat of the airless room, and the lateness of the hour, and just concentrates on the steady rise and fall of the weights, the clanking of the machine; the low steady pounding of her heart.

She pushes everything she's feeling into it. All her hurt, and confusion, and frustration. And she's actually able to take some form of grim satisfaction in return from the repetitive difficulty of the exercises, some small sense of pride as she's gradually managed to add repetitions and weights to her routine. There is something to be said for pitting all her strength against the soft heavy iron, and feeling herself prevail. Seeing the heavy black slabs rise, bend to her will and her strength.

(Unlike how Waverly, hardened steel, had not.)

 

There has also been something else growing in her lately, too. A catching flicker of an emotion she knows she's more than capable of, one that usually in fact she's in a battle to temper down. But now she consciously nourishes it, stokes the fire, uses the heat of the flame to keep her going.

(She's _angry_.)

 

So it is that with each strain and push, she breathes this anger into words.

"We were supposed to be a _team_..." _two, three, hold. Breathe._

"We promised we'd always _talk_..." _two, three, wait. Breathe_.

"We said we  _loved_ \- "

Her arms are suddenly spaghetti and the bars slip from sweaty hands and the weights slam heavily down to their rest with a reverberating  _clang_ , too loud in the quiet of the room.

 

Nicole clenches her jaw, balls her hands on her knees, and screws up her eyes, tight.

And breathes.

Then puts her hands back on the levers. Settles them firm again on the textured grips. Settles herself.

"You said we were a _team_..."

 

* * *

 

Later, and she's walking home through the silent streets of late night Purgatory, the sweat of her workout now rapidly cooling off in the chill of an early Purgatory fall.

She's feeling - not exactly  _good_. She's not sure good is an option for her any more. But where the last month has been almost pure pain, a month of wrenching sleepless grief to follow the previous one of bewilderment and disbelief, for this moment there is some defiant energy building.

The ache in her chest is still there, but it's duller than the sharp pain that it has been; the endorphins from the workout leaving her feeling loose and tall and easy. And the brisk walk through familiar streets feels something like coming home; walking along swift and sure, gazing about her in the vaguely proprietary way she knows is the right of a cop; the right of those who've seen a place at times and through angles that no civilian can truly understand.

And, she knows despite the misgivings of the better part of herself, she knows the growing fire of anger is helping.

_Screw you, Waves. Screw you for doing this to me. To both of us._

She walks. And the anger flickers and burns, and catches into a blaze: and just for a second she feels lit up by it, by her righteous anger. An echo of the motivation that has driven her her whole life, the one in fact that got her to join the police in the first place; that urge to take head-on all the injustices of the world, and set them right.

_I can do this. I can live without you. You'll see. I'll stay, and I'll serve this godforsaken town. Damn you, and your demons. You'll see. I lived without you before. I can live without you again._

 

Nicole turns the final corner onto her street. It's dark, and quiet, both houses and their occupants sleeping the blissfully ignorant sleep of the protected and safe; the only sign of life flies flickering under porch lights, and a dog sporadically barking in the distance.

Nicole idly observes how the flat amber light of the streetlights casts ghostly pools of illumination, and throws strange shadows. Shadows that could be figures, that could be demons, could be nothing at all. She registers one of these shadows in front of her house, not able to work out why it looks so solid, so familiar.

She gets closer, and her heart thuds once, and then kicks into hammering overdrive.

Because it's a shadow alright; an apparition. It's a ghost, come to haunt her. To taunt her.

 

It's Waverly.

 

* * *

 

Waverly Earp is stood on Nicole's porch, waiting for her. Her head is bowed, and it's dark, and her face is cast in shadow, so Nicole has no clue as to what's waiting for her, even when she gets as far as the entrance to her front yard.

Nicole very deliberately, very slowly, opens her gate, turns, closes it again. She hesitates a second, and takes a breath, before turning, as if she was turning to a firing squad. She slowly approaches the house, knowing Waverly knows she's there, but seeing no movement of acknowledgement, Waverly stood absolutely still.

She can hear her blood rushing and pounding in her ears in the still silent night; feel her mouth dry. She thinks she might be shaking.

She makes it all the way to the porch, and Waverly still hasn't looked up. She looks small, shoulders hunched in in her thick sky-blue coat; the only sign of life to convince Nicole she's not seeing things after all her hands, twisting and fidgeting together anxiously.

Nicole stops when she reaches the foot of the porch. And it's only then, that Waverly raises her head. Nicole sees tears on her cheeks, and her lips pressed into a tight line of emotion, and there's a plead in her eyes; and without thinking Nicole takes the first step up the porch to her and Waverly  _reaches_ for her. And Nicole doesn't know how it happens, or why, but she's pulled into a kiss, Waverly's hands at her face, Nicole kissing hot and firm back up to her, her own arms rounding Waverly's waist and then locking there tight like they'd never left, whilst Waverly kisses her like her life depends on it, like she's been drowning and Nicole is air, like the touch and tussle of their tongues and disbelieving grasp and pull of their hands is all that will keep either of them from falling, falling further down into their own personal darkness. As Nicole takes the final step onto the porch, as their habitual height difference is re-established, and as she feels Waverly, so fragile and so strong, just melting into her arms, like she always had, like she belongs there, Nicole understands finally, _no_.

Whatever she's been telling herself, whatever she's been trying to believe?

No.

She cannot live without Waverly Earp.

 

* * *

 

Inside, and they're grappling at each other, kissing malcoordinated and hungry, teeth and lips clashing and bumping and hands getting in each other's way. Nicole wrestles Waverly's overcoat off, then Waverly is pulling down the zipper on Nicole's padded vest and, too impatient to remove it just pushes it aside to push her body in closer to Nicole, they need to get _closer_. Their bodies press in tight and it's pure shock and sensation, and then Nicole's toeing off her sneakers as Waverly finally pushes her vest top right off, then is straight on to the zipper on her workout hoodie underneath, and when that's discarded too she falls back for a second, her eyes wide and roaming, caught for a second almost stunned at the sight of Nicole in just a sleeveless grey lycra workout undershirt, staring at her toned body and the slight signs of muscle definition now showing on her arms.

Waverly's mouth is hanging slightly open as her hands ghost down Nicole's arms, slip around her waist for a second, raising shivers everywhere they touch, before pulling back and travelling up Nicole's front, smoothing round her breasts, and further up, to her shoulders; and then they slip further up still, and then they're threading through Nicole's hair and Waverly leans up and into her again to continue the kiss, scraping blunt fingernails softly on her scalp, kissing her deep and wanting, and Nicole  _groans_.

With that, they drop the kiss again for a second. Nicole thinks she hears Waverly whimper at the parting of their lips, and then again at the touch of their foreheads, light against each other, and she gets it, of course she does, because, the _intimacy_ of it, the familiarity of this, _their_ touch...

The memory of it hits them both hard, and for a second they're stopped in their tracks, both breathing shaky and fast, Waverly's hands still in Nicole's hair, both of them swaying, weakened by the strength of how it feels. Until Nicole brushes her nose and nuzzles hers into Waverly's, and then turns her head, and kisses her again, a soft press of her lips to Waverly's this time. A soft and slow kiss, full of all the familiarity and love that they'd learned to express over their time together. Waverly gives to her, bends to Nicole's quiet but insistent desire, until the kiss grows deeper again, and with the strength and rhythm of that they're falling back, step by kissing step, back towards the foot of the stairs.

When Nicole belatedly registers the direction of their movement, and the implication, it's like the reality of what is happening hits her for the first time. Despite her hands still locked at Waverly's waist, and how unbelievably _right_  it feels to be leaning and pressing into her again, she focusses all her concentration, and with an almighty effort, pulls back from the kiss. She manages it for just a second, but then she makes the mistake of opening her eyes, and almost reels at the sight of Waverly Earp standing there, in her home; like it's nothing, like the last two months never happened.

Before she knows or can stop it that self same Waverly Earp is kissing her again, hungrily, Waverly Earp is sucking on her bottom lip, and with both hands now bunched into her shirt, Waverly Earp is pulling her the final foot to the wall by her stairs...

They thud into it, hard, and Nicole's near helpless when Waverly then drops her lips from hers, and nibbles along her jawline, down to her neck, kisses wet and firm and needing into her throat -

_No_. She's not helpless, and she's _not_ doing this. Not without talking about it.

She pulls back again, feeling the loss immediately, dizzy, like without Waverly's lips on her she's lost her anchor to the world. She's out of breath, and completely out of words. Waverly herself seems similarly affected; face flushed and expression almost dazed, half insensible with desire. But she must see something in Nicole's expression, because then she visibly gathers herself, steadying her breath; almost imperceptibly shaking her head, and closing her eyes a second. When she reopens them she slides her hands down to Nicole's shoulders, then softly down to lay flat above her chest. Then looks up at Nicole, head tilted a little, a careful, questionning look. It's so caring. It's so Waverly.

" _Waves_."

Though Nicole doesn't know exactly what she means by that single wrecked utterance, it seems that Waverly somehow does. Because she looks up at Nicole seriously, and nods, her eyes steady, and soft. And asks.

"Are you okay, Nicole?"

Nicole is drowning in Waverly's eyes. She is so beautiful it actually hurts, a stab of pain of love and loss right to the heart of her. She can't take the eye contact anymore, and drops her gaze, looking down between their linked bodies. And shakes her head, whispering her reply.

"No."

"No. No, me either."

It's the first words they've said to each other for six weeks. And they're saying it, touching each other, pressed to each other, up against Nicole's wall.

And they shouldn't. Nicole knows they shouldn't. But Nicole can't help but lift her gaze again to meet her girlfriend - her _ex_ -girlfriend's. And the way Waverly is looking back at her, soft eyes searching for something in her own. Waverly looks scared, and vulnerable, and sad. And just so full of want that Nicole doesn't know what to do with it.

She doesn't know who moves first.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They only make it half way up the stairs, still kissing wet and desperate, when one or the other trips, and they fall together upon the tread, Nicole instinctively holding Waverly from the worst of the impact with one protective arm around her waist as the other hits hard on the stair.

And with that Nicole comes to her senses, thinking, this has got to hurt, me lying on her, I'm heavy, she's lying on the tread, I should get up. But she feels arms snake around her back, and instead of pushing her off Waverly pulls Nicole down closer into full body contact, and all Nicole can think is oh christ she's so _soft_ , and she's so _warm_ , and she's _under_ me and she feels so _good_ , and...Nicole feels one of Waverly's legs part her own, and then raise, and with that pressure to her core the sensation that had been building there since their lips first met flares like wildfire across Nicole's whole body, and she can't help the instinctual grind back down onto Waverly - 

Nicole knows her limits. And knows they should not, they should _not_ , they _absolutely_ should not be doing this.

With aching arms, shaky from her exertions at the gym, or perhaps just from the fact of Waverly Earp lying under her again, looking up at her needy and a little wild, she somehow pushes and holds herself off.

"What - what are you _doing_? What are you doing here?"

"I - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do this. I just came to talk. I promise, I just came to talk to you. But, well - "

Waverly's face is a rueful half smile as she casts her eyes around Nicole's face, shoulders, everywhere Waverly can indicate from her constrained position. And Nicole reads her clear as day, remembering the delighted humour they'd shared, way back when they first realised just how _big_ the desire they had for each other was.

Part of Nicole wants to laugh about it, still. But that part she's been deliberately feeding these past weeks feels that flash of anger again.

_How dare you joke about it. Do you know how rare this is?_

"So. Let's talk."

But Nicole hasn't moved, still hovering where she is above Waverly. Waverly looks up at her. Serious again, pleading again.

"Okay. We'll talk. But first - Nicole. I - I want this. I mean, if you do? If you - I'm sorry. I know this is - I just - I just - I think I need you."

The anger flares, and grows.

_We shouldn't. We shouldn't because if we do and you leave, I think that's it for me. I can't start over again. And we shouldn't for you, because who knows what reasoning went on in that head of yours when you resolved to break us, and why it was so important to you that you did. And what sleeping together will do to that resolve._

_But you know what? Screw you Waves. Screw this. Why do I always have to be the adult, the responsible one?_

Nicole shakes her head one more time. But then contradicts herself by standing, and taking Waverly's hand, pulling her up, and leading her the final few steps, up to her room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Once inside her bedroom, Nicole's like she's never been with Waverly before. Yes, she's often taken control in bed, but it's always been informed by Waverly before, driven by her really. But now that Nicole has relinquished her tight control on what's sensible and proper and the right thing to do, it's like she's lost with it what little control she has around Waverly too. She's already pulled Waverly's shirt off, and now is smoothing her hands hot and fast and hungry over the goose-pimpled skin that's revealed, whilst she kisses Waverly, hard, setting the pace of the kiss, fed on the desire she can feel kissed back to her by Waverly, who, for her part is just holding on, letting Nicole love her, leaning into it and encouraging the whirlwind of Nicole's want with the bend of her body, with rising whimpers and moans, and with the catch and hitch of her breath.

There's an electricity crackling between them in this illicit midnight hour, a spark running fast and almost dangerous over their skins. Nicole pushes them both closer to her bed, and when they're close enough she fumbles open the tight buttons of Waverly's jeans, and pushes down at the waistband, Waverly shimmying and wriggling as Nicole pushes the denim down her legs to the ground, sinking down at the same time, kissing reverently down Waverly's front, until she's on her knees, kissing Waverly's stomach, hands at her hips now, and Waverly runs her fingers through Nicole's hair again, letting out a strangled cry when Nicole sucks a love bite hard into her flesh.

Still on her knees, and nearly frantic now, Nicole pushes Waverly back to sit on the bed so she can pull off her boots and her jeans in one almighty and ungainly pull, and then by the time Nicole's stood up and kicking her own sweatpants hurriedly down to the ground, Waverly's already scrambled herself to lie the right way on the bed. Nicole follows her down onto the bed, holding herself up and to one side as she looks down at the sight of Waverly, bare now except for her underwear, eyes dark and glittering and breaths heaving with anticipation and desire.

For a moment Nicole is overwhelmed.

She feels a lump form in her throat, but swallows it down, hard. Then leans, and kisses Waverly's lips once, and then starts a slow trail from her neck, down, kissing all the way down Waverly's body.

"Oh god...oh Nicole...oh _god_..."

Waverly's skin is quivering under her hands and her lips, and Waverly is arching into her touch, holding on to her shoulders with grabbing, desperate hands. Nicole feels like she's burning up herself; she can feel her pulse hammering fast and hard where she is slick between her legs, as she licks and kisses and bites her way down Waverly's torso, to the line of her underwear, back up again, licking slowly around Waverly's navel, up, up; to the line of her bra, where she finally hesitates, closes her eyes for a second, and for a moment just rests her face against the swell of a lace-clad breast. Until she register's the fast shallow pants of Waverly, and the touch of one hand moved from her shoulder to the back of her head again, and there's the slightest pull, and a breathy, near frantic, _please_.

Eyes still closed, and through the fabric of Waverly's bra, Nicole finds a stiff point by touch and taste alone; and closes her wet mouth around it.

Waverly cries out and her hips jerk, hard against Nicole, who shifts her posture in reply, pressing a thigh into place between Waverly's legs, and bringing a hand up to her other breast, and starting to suck and squeeze in tandem, feeling Waverly arch and grind herself up and against her leg, as Nicole manages to slip one hand under the lace of the bra, feeling like she wants to cry at the sensation of it, at the incredible sensual softness of her.

With that, the whimpering from up above has morphed into honest to god moans, and then there's a sudden change because it's like a limit has been breached, Waverly is suddenly pushing her up, impatiently and desperately reaching a hand down between their bodies, and it's making its way down Nicole's front, coursing firm down her body.

Some strange feeling halfway between panic and lust surges in Nicole, such that when Waverly leans further, and with a mischievous smile of pure joy she slips her hand into Nicole's underwear and down into her wetness and _touches_ her, for a second it's the best thing Nicole has ever ever felt, until the panic surges and swells further and to her horror Nicole physically flinches away and - 

"Aah!"

She doesn't know herself whether she's cried out in pleasure or pain. Neither does Waverly, apparently, who's yanked her hand out and away and is holding it in the air, open, like she's surrendering.

"Nicole?" Waverly's voice is all worry, and more than a little panicked too. "What - did I hurt you?"

"No. I just - it's really sensitive - it's too - I don't know - "

Nicole's still laying over Waverly, but holding herself up a little, her leg still between Waverly's, but her own centre held stiffly up and away. That lump in her throat is back, and added to with frustration and embarrassment and - 

" _Hey_ , Nicole, it's okay. Take a second. Are you okay?"

Waverly's voice is so soft, so measured and reassuring. This is the way she speaks to Nicole, and Nicole alone. She's always spoken like they're equals, in bed as with everything, right from the very start. And no-one else sees that about them. Everyone has seen Nicole go to the floor for Waverly time and again, everyone has seen her hospitalised for that matter, or standing in front of her in a protective stance, gun in hand. No-one knows that when it's just them, Waverly protects her too. Waverly sees her, and is there for her, just like she is for Waverly.

_Like she was. Like they were._

Nicole pushes that thought aside, and, despite herself looks to Waverly for help, or her reaction maybe, to Nicole's shame and confusion. And sees Waverly looks up at her, tenderly still, wanting still, but thoughtful.

It's so familiar a combination. _I love her so much_ , Nicole thinks, helplessly.

Waverly's eyes flicker to the draw by the bed, and she asks.

"Have you still got it? Ours, I mean?"

Nicole nods. And as she stands, she tries to convert her shame back into anger again. _Figures_ , she tries to tell herself, as she reaches and opens the draw. _Figures she'd want the straight girl's lesbian sex._  She pulls her own underwear down, and pulls the harness back up, practiced hands swiftly adjusting the velcro and fabric. _Figures she'd want what gets her off, not you,_  the catching anger continues, as she settles the toy, pulling the straps tight, and snug, getting a further kick of arousal from the firm pressure of it on her wanting centre.

But then she looks down at Waverly, who has taken the moment's break as an opportunity to remove her bra. She is flushed, lying full length on Nicole's bed, skin pale and smooth and flawless, the perfection of her only heightened by the scattered blemishes of red where Nicole had kissed and sucked too hard. She has both thumbs hooked inside the lace of her underwear, but isn't moving them. She's waiting for Nicole, just looking up at her, with that look on her face that Nicole has only ever seen Waverly Earp manage. Happy affection underlined with pure, carnal desire.

Nicole picks up a hair tie to pull her sweat-darkened hair back, and when she's done with that she just stands there for a second, owning who she is in that moment. Dishevelled, sweat-stained workout shirt, strap-on bonded tight to her body and her mind, and, she can't help it, because it's true, love. She is just love for Waverly.

"Nicole."

And that bigger part of herself that she's been trying to ignore this last month takes over from the anger, and with its action, replies. As she sinks down onto the bed again, and onto Waverly, and kisses her, that better part of her nature wrestles with the anger, and wins.

_But you do get off on it, you know you do._

Nicole kisses Waverly, softer now, and with one hand, gently takes one of Waverly's away from the fabric at her hip, and replaces it with her own. She kisses Waverly, and with just a fraction of a tug, starts the movement to pull down. Waits until Waverly gets the hint, and pushes down with her other hand, the other side, lifting her hips to let the fabric slide over her, and down.

_She knows you do, too._

Together, they push the last item of Waverly's clothing down her legs, and then away.

_And she gets off on you getting off. And you know that too._

She kisses Waverly, on her fully now, their legs back entangled how they were before, the toy for the moment bent up between them; and their bodies start to rock together in their steady, familiar unstoppable rhythm, as they kiss, and kiss, tongues caressing and exploring now, bone-familiar and incredibly new at the same time, like it's always been between them.

_She knows how much you love this_ , the internal voice tells her, as she reaches with one hand down between their bodies, and slides down into soft warmth, touches her, feels her, so, so wet. She touches, slipping and sliding and pressing, and Waverly falls from their kiss, gasping and rocking her hips into the touch, in time with the rhythm of Nicole's hand at her centre.

_S_ _he knows why you love this, too._ Waverly looks close already, and so Nicole stops the movement of her hand, re-adjusts her body fully over Waverly, trembling, aligning herself between legs that have fallen open to her. She takes the toy, and guides it down into slick wetness, and hesitates for a second, looking suddenly for reassurance up into Waverly's eyes. Who just smiles, warm and joyful and like she knows every secret of the world, and nods.

_Because of this_, Nicole admits to herself, as she slides into Waverly, gasping herself now with the shock of the incredible sight and sensation of the toy disappearing inside. Waverly's fingers dig hard into the flesh of her upper arms as Nicole slowly pushes the toy in, and when she's fully inside and their hips are flush together and they're connected close as they can be Waverly almost _ripples_ under her, letting out the sound that's only made in their bed; an almost gutteral moan from somewhere deep in her throat; and hearing that nearly ends it for Nicole already, before she's even begun.

_Because you can be body to body, and face to face, and you can see her, see her reaction, her everything_.

Nicole is still, for a second. Soaking in the closeness, the look on Waverly's face, eyes closed, mouth half open, head tilted back in something close to bliss.

Nicole pulls out, just a fraction. And then pushes back in.

"Ohhhh god... _Nicole..."_

Waverly's eyes flutter open, and she loosens her rigid grip on Nicole's arms, and runs her hands up to her shoulders, and from there to either side of Nicole's face, and pulls herself up, Nicole down, into a searing kiss, as she cants her own hips up and at Nicole. And Nicole takes the hint, and pulls back, and thrusts again, and Waverly swallows a groan in their kiss. And so Nicole does it again. And again, Waverly sucking her tongue into her mouth too, pulling at her shoulders, starting to jerk herself into the movement, wrapping herself around Nicole and the centre of them, the burning core of their linked bodies that is Nicole's rock and thrust.

Nicole relaxes and starts to lose herself in it. She is holding onto Waverly as she moves into her, and she tries at first to keep it slow, shallow, but Waverly's hands are slipping and pulling and pulling at her shirt, and somehow they wrestle that off without stopping, and with the change of angle Nicole feels the desire surge from both of them, and she starts fucking in earnest, driving the toy in and out of Waverly, her stomach and arm muscles burning from the effort on top of her work-out earlier on, and Waverly's chanting her name now, one hand holding onto the bars at the headboard, the other onto Nicole, just holding on, rocking her own hips up jerky and wanting.

Nicole's movement is pure instinct now, and suddenly she's not close enough to Waverly, sinking down again to bury her head in Waverly's neck as she moves, locking her hands around Waverly's shoulders, and pushing into her, fucking her, loving her. She lets herself be lulled into the incredible sensual sensation of it, their bodies moving in tandem, sweat blooming on them both, Waverly's arms now around her again, their gasps and whimpers and soft guttural grunts. But then Nicole hears Waverly, hears even in this moment her love, her beautiful love, manage to form words, where she herself has none.

" _Yes_ Nicole...oh, Nicole, yes. Take me...please take me...take me...I need you to...oh god..."

Nicole's getting faster now, instinctive, lost in their movement, and barely registers Waverly's words as anything other than pure desire, as her own surges too, her climax building and building, just waiting for Waverly and the final moment of release. But then the fragments of words start to resolve, and break through the haze of Nicole's need.

"Take me...take me b- ...will you take me ba- I need you - I love you - I need you - take me, take me back Nicole, oh please take me back..."

"What?"

Nicole pulls her head up from where it's been, and looks desperate and bewildered into Waverly's eyes, and what she sees there combines with her body already well beyond the point of no return, because there's need and want and there's _love_ , and Nicole's hips stammer and jerk, and Waverly takes her face in her hands again, and leans up, and kisses her, so, so tenderly, and Nicole is filled with a flood of warmth and she can't hold the kiss any more because she can _feel_ the phantom pressure of Waverly, and with an uncontrollable rush of sensation she's coming, a sparking surge of love and release as she cries out and jerks, hard and deep inside of Waverly, shock and instinctive aftershock combining with Waverly's own incoherent cries of pleasure to prolong the incredible moment and feeling.

 

It's long, long moments again, before she in any way comes back to herself.

 

Waverly taps on her hip, just lightly, and Nicole gets the message, pulls herself up, pulls herself out. With weak, shaking arms, she manages to pull the toy out of the harness, and drops it unheeded over the side of the bed. She's shaky, and embarrassed, and in no small way, ashamed.

Because she doesn't know if Waverly came too. She thinks so, but she doesn't know. And they're not a couple any more, so she can't ask. They can't joke about it if not, joke that there's always next time, know that there will always be the kisses and the touches and the  _everything_ that Waverly loves, next time, always another time.

And for some reason, it's this that finally breaks her.

She sniffs, and her breath catches. And then she can't stop it. Tears are falling from her eyes, and she's shaking her head, but she's too weak to stop them. Waverly pulls her back down, and envelopes her in a tight embrace, and then starts to stroke her back, her hair.

"Oh, _Nicole_. Shh, shh. It's okay. You're okay. Okay? I've got you, Nicole. I've got you. Take your time. It's okay. I've got you. I've got you."

For a moment, it's quiet, just the sound of Nicole's hitching breaths and silent, shuddering sobs. Until Waverly goes on, a whisper full of her own emotion.

"I love you, you know?"

Nicole buries her face deeper into Waverly's neck, and her arms wrap tighter under her, holding onto her shoulders again, crying all her grief out into the one person who can understand it, the one who caused it.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry Nicole. Will you take me back? I love you so much. I - I need you. I thought I was doing the right thing. But I just can't do this without you. I love you. I'm just so in love with you. Will you take me back, Nicole? Will you take me back?"

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry too.
> 
> I hope you can forgive Nicole's anger here. I think it's something she's capable of - she's certainly shown plenty of flashes of it in canon - and though turning it towards Waverly would be probably be the last thing she'd *want* to do, I think it's in-character that she might. If nothing else, just out of sheer self-preservation in a scenario like this.
> 
> Speaking of - in my head Waverly has her reasons for this set up! It's deliberately not written into this fic, which is all about Nicole's uninformed reaction to where she finds herself. I have half an idea of doing a Waverly POV to this one at some stage to back this one up, but we'll see!


End file.
